Babysitting
by Long Lost Intentions
Summary: Through magical means, Jack is just a toddler again. Bunny is the only one available to take care of him. Rated T only for safety. Mild swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:**

This story was written collaboratively with a friend through roleplay. Each small break is changing POV. Begins with Bunny (her), switches to Jack (me), her, and so on. Should still be an easy read. Mild redundancy though. Chapters only set up for length sake!

* * *

It all started with—well, Bunnymund didn't really know what it started with (still don't, actually) but he damn well knows what came off it. Nothing good, that's for sure, since now he's got a pint-size runt screaming and running around and generally being a pest in his Warren. Bunnymund hadn't even volunteered to take care of the mini-Frost, for Moon's sake, but North just had to go and get that annoying feeling in his belly again, and really, there's just about zilch that even the Easter Bunny and the rest of the Guardians could do against the gut instinct of Santa Claus.

Tooth had given him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, eyes shining in a way that rubbed his fur in an uncomfortable way, followed by Sandy's solemn nod and an attempt to convey his condolences with various sand-shapes above his head that didn't work so well—and Bunnymund had taken it all in, even if it made his skin crawl to have to accept pity, because he knew he was going to need all the luck he can get his paws on to get passed this with his sanity still intact.

But it's been a few days since then and Bunnymund can honestly say that it's not all that bad. Not as bad as he had thought it was going to be, at least, though he had held his expectations as low as they would go, so no surprises there. Mini-Frost was surprisingly easy to take care of when you get used to it, and Bunnymund is nothing less than a quick learner when he puts his mind to it (but never flying—that's a whole other story). Give him a few of the best-looking googies and the kid's set to go for the rest of the day.

There is just one thing that made Bunnymund's shackles rise, though, and that's Mini-Frost's attachment to his bloody stick. He carries it wherever he goes, despite the fact that it's at least thrice his height, and has the tendency to shoot off ice-lasers whenever he's feeling a little adventurous. Bunnymund is convinced the kid's doing it just to get him annoyed—like now, sitting on the bank of one of the rivers of dye and being surrounded with the stone eggs, Mini-Frost starts to giggle and taps the front of the staff against the grass.

Bunnymund's ear twitches from where he's tending to the patch of frozen grass, victim of another "accident", and turns just in time to see a bolt of ice shoot out, scrape passed one of the stone eggs, and end up skidding against the surface of the river.

"Oi!" he yells, jumping over to assess the damage, and gives Mini-Frost a first-rate glare. "What'd I tell you 'bout freezing the river?" He leans down to tap against the crystallized ice, and sighs, wishing that North's belly hadn't chosen him out of the others for the umpteenth time. "Third strike is out, mate, hand the stick over."

* * *

Where it actually began was with a lesson, from North no less. It was practically impossible for anyone he cared about to get on his bad side, and even when you did he was never really "angry". He was never afraid, however, to teach you a good lesson or get you out of the way when he was busy. This time he was definitely busy. With Winter not quite started yet and temperatures still uncomfortably warm (for him at least), Jack was typically found in someplace that would stay cool all year round. Like the Pole. And with nothing to do he gets bored, restless. That is precisely how this whole mess started. As it turns out, even though none of them had previously spent a great deal of one-on-one time with children beforehand, children can be a lot less of a handful then him when he is feeling restless or mischievous. At least they'd thought so.

When it started he wasn't bad. He was a little disoriented, being a child, knowing he's a child, but not knowing where he was. However he did recognize the people around him. Whether from his memories as a child or from his memories as a young adult, he was happy to see them around. It comforted him in his state of confusion. The fear of being in an unfamiliar place didn't last long; it simply didn't stick with him. There were too many things to look at, too much to explore.

In the end they didn't know what to do with him. He wouldn't stay put and even though he couldn't fly quite as well he could float a couple feet off the ground. He wouldn't let go of his staff, and as he was re-discovering with renewed interest his powers, nearly everything was freezing over. There were brief moments when they could keep him entertained, cooing at the pretty fairies or chasing after a toy. Once Bunny had arrived though, all bets were off. It became evident very quickly that nobody could take his place. Very simply, he adored him. He always had as a kid.

The first thing he did was stare in amazement with the biggest smile on his face. The second thing he did was run up and hug his leg, as that was about as high as he could reach. It was hard to separate him, and if Bunny even looked like he would leave without him he'd cry out a loud "No!" or get wordlessly upset. Which is exactly how they ended up where they were now. He'd been given free roam, because really how far COULD his tiny legs take him? Far enough to nearly freeze the river of dye apparently. And when he's commanded to give him the stick he just hugs it tighter and stomps his foot, shaking his head. He isn't angry, in fact he's trying not to laugh, trying and failing. He laughs and backs up, trying to run down the river. Instead he ends up tipping over into it after stumbling over his own two feet (which he's never been very good on anyways) and winding up covered in dye. The river isn't deep, and he's just sitting there, clearly enjoying himself. It doesn't bother him at all. He smiles brightly and laughs to himself, looking around and pointing at all the spots of dye on him naming off the colors one by one. "Blue! Yellow! Green! Purple!"

* * *

Bunnymund counts it a blessing that Easter wasn't just around the corner, or else he might've done something he definitely will regret—just what that something is he doesn't know, but if his progress ever gets stopped by the mass areas of ice frozen all across his Warren, then it's assured that it won't be anything pretty. As it is, he can only raise an unimpressed eyebrow as Mini-Frost refuses to relinquish the staff, even stomping his foot as an added bonus, and where the hell did the runt learn to do that, anyways?

And fine, the kid's kinda cute when he's laughing, with the big toothy smile, but they had a deal dammit—ignoring the fact that he shouldn't be making agreements with 3-year olds—and there is no way Bunnymund is going to let his home become a Winter Wonderland. But before he can slowly, but surely, coax him into giving up the stick, Mini-Frost's already wobbling backwards, unsteady on his two small feet, towards the edge of the river.

"Hey, careful wher—"

His warning comes a little too late, though, and he instinctively shies away from the splash as Mini-Frost—Jack; might as well starting calling him by his name, though only when it's just the two of them, since Bunnymund can't have the others thinking he's getting soft—tumbles into the river and covers himself with the colours and patterns of Easter. Bunnymund puts on his most annoyed face, but the smile pulling at his lips makes it essentially ineffective, because it's next to impossible to be upset when Jack's obviously having a blast. He'll just deal with the matter of confiscating the stick later.

"The river's only for eggs, buddy, not kids who can't walk properly," he chides, following his arms across his chest. Ain't it grand to not have to deal with this when it's work-time? "Now get outta there so we can get you clean again. Can't have you watering the egg-plants without being spick-and-span, now, can we?"

* * *

He barely even registers the warning before he's fallen in. And he hardly even sees him as threatening. It was near impossible. He was furry, welcoming, and… Just impossible to fear. So it isn't much surprise when he never really takes his threats seriously. So he continues to enjoy himself, at least for a little while longer. Until he decides to bring a dye covered hand to his mouth and put a finger in to taste it. He screws up his face in disgust and sticks his tongue out, making a noise. It might look pretty but it definitely did not taste so!

Combined with the word 'eggs' he's more then happy to scramble up onto the bank and out of the river. From what he remembers that word can only mean good things, fun things. He is more then willing to have something to do with it. He blinks around and pipes up. He doesn't quite speak full sentences yet but he has always been a talker. "Eggs!" He scans the grassy field, crouching down as though it might somehow help him locate them. And then he locks onto them walking in a line and smiles widely. "Get egg!" he's teetering off as fast as he can manage, running after the little eggs that are MOVING, and he's never seen that before. It just makes him want to chase them MORE. He doesn't even notice that he's left his staff on the bank of the river.

As soon as he approaches them, however, they scatter. Running this way and that, and it is nearly impossible to decide which one to chase. So he attempts to run after each one for a little bit, but he just isn't quick enough. He lets out a whine of frustration and tries again, holding his arms out trying to grab them. The second time he trips he gives up, sitting up in the grass and pouting. He turns towards Bunny with wide, pouty eyes and points towards one of the eggs. "I waaant!"


	2. Chapter 2

Bunnymund allows himself to smile, just that little bit wider and indulgent, when the promise of eggs is enough to lure Jack out of the dye river. Definitely one of the easier moments he's had with the kid, that's for sure; he had lungs of steel, that's for sure. Seeing Jack so intent on finding and catching the eggs made him feel proud for some reason, like seeing all the children that search for his googies during Easter all rolled into one small package, and Bunnymund tries to not let that thought take root.

"Go get 'em," he says just as Jack races off to catch the ones that have caught his eye. He notices the stave lying near the riverbank and goes to pick it up—it's not as heavy as he had initially imagined, and he notices all sorts of details that he's never really thought to look at. But he forces his eyes away, because it feels too intimate, like giving Jack (the older version) his boomerang to scrutinize, which sits awkwardly at the bottom of Bunnymund's stomach.

So he turns back to watching Jack running all over the place trying and failing to catch even one egg, and rolls his eyes when he gets a full dose of puppy-dog eyes. Hitching the magical staff up onto his shoulder, he makes his way over to where Jack had decided to sit, and nudges along a few eggs with his foot up close for the kid to see. He kneels, picking up an egg and deposits it in both of Jack's hand, wrapping his small fingers around it securely.

"What do you do when a big bear is running towards you?" Bunnymund says, giving another egg a small flick to the head and watching it speed off in the other direction. He puts Jack's staff down on the grass. "You gotta be gentle with these guys, 'cause they get scared easily—" and here he's reminded of that one time where he had seen his eggs scrambling all over the place, only to be crushed by pure darkness "—so you have to make sure you don't go chasin' them around the place, alright?"

* * *

He goes back to staring intently at the eggs that were just eluding him. It wasn't fair! He just wanted to look at them! Why would they run away?! He is still pouting when his caretaker comes over towards him. Even through his frustration he can't help smiling up at him when he sees him. Something about his presence just lightened the air, made the day better. Not that he ever really had many bad days, and not just because he was only 3. Somehow he just always seemed to enjoy whatever he did. It seemed to just be in his nature. Everything could be turned into a game, well almost everything. Except when the other participants didn't play at all!

His smile returns when he sees the eggs being scooted towards him. He leans down to look at them with big eyes, admiring the colors on them. He is about to reach for them again when he feels one being nestled into his hand. He giggles at the sight of one running away while he cups one very carefully in his hands. It takes up the entire space of both hands, but thankfully isn't very heavy. He doesn't understand completely what he is saying, but he does get the gist. He'd have to play a nicer game with them. He leans in and gives it a little nuzzle for experimentation and laughs excitedly when it shivers a little in his hand.

He doesn't notice the other eggs sneaking around him immediately. They make themselves apparent though, when they begin to grow in numbers. His eyes widen as the group grows and grows, he hasn't seen so many eggs in one spot in his life! He's twitching to get up and run after them again but he forces himself to sit still, or at the very least stay seated! His eyes dart happily from one to another and his laughs start to echo louder as they get closer to him, brushing his feet and legs and back. He puts the one in his hands down and starts to pet the others as if they were animals. They DID move, surely they enjoyed being pet!

* * *

Bunnymund looks over his shoulder at the stone eggs standing against the walls and makes a jerking motion with his head at them. Their rotating faces shift to the one of understanding as they shuffle over to the lines of eggs and breaks into their march to guide them away from the rest of the lines towards the kid and him. He's not sure if swarming Jack with an army of walking eggs is going to freak him out, but Bunnymund's never had problems with the other children when he tried this before, so here's to hoping it still works.

He watches as the eggs start to crowd the two of them, inching in on whatever space there is to fill, and he shuffles back to make even more room. Despite the fact that the eggs had been running away from Jack just a few minutes before, Bunnymund knows the naivety of the Jack Frost being welcomed into the Warren hasn't worn off on a lot of the creatures living within the vast tunnel system, even if it's the toddler version.

"Now you're getting the hang of it," he encourages and prods a few eggs into climbing on top and over each other. Some decide to get comfortable on Jack's leg, swaying from side to side and swinging their legs happily as the kid takes to petting them one by one.

Bunnymund's not sure how this isn't a weird scene he's witnessing but it makes a warm weight sink to the bottom of his stomach, making him feel…content, he supposes. And that's as crazy as it can get, that he's feeling something like that for the miniaturized version of the biggest pest in his life. "They seem to like you a lot than me," he says, if anything to direct his thoughts elsewhere, when the eggs start to nudge him out of the way to get to Jack. "Not feeling much love here."

* * *

Once or twice he's caught sight of the big egg sentinels. He would be briefly interested but it wouldn't last long. They were far too big to chase and a little intimidating. He liked the small eggs far better. They also seemed to like him from what he can see. Watching them climbing over each other in a struggle to reach him had its moments of absolute hilarity. To a 3-year-old at least. More and more joined the group, and he'd attempt to count them. Except that he only knew how to count to 10. So he would get there and just start over again. It seemed effective enough.

He looks up and over when he speaks, because even if he doesn't completely understand, he knows it has to be important. He does look awfully lonely over there though, and the distance looks huge to him. With eggs separating them just a bit too far. He looks at some of the eggs around him and points towards the direction Bunny is with a "Go play!" because he isn't quite sure how else to make him not lonely. He figures he would probably want to play with all these guys too! It doesn't quite work so he tries again, pointing with more emphasis, urging them harder with his eyes. "Go big bunny!" It's useless. They're too fond of him.

Not that he minded that particularly. He enjoys their company. Except that they start to climb all over him. And the feeling of little wiggling eggs and tapping feet against his own tiny feet, sides, stomach and back make him squirm too, giggling loudly. He tries to push them away but when they just keep jumping back his giggles turn to playful shrieks and laughs. He stands to run away but decides he is far too likely to step on them so he just crawls through the mass of eggs. He can barely keep his own when they crawl under and around him, brushing past him. When he finally makes it to Bunny he stands and quickly hides behind his leg, hugging it and trying to hush his laughter so the eggs 'wouldn't find him'.

* * *

He had meant it as a joke, but obviously it was too mature for the 3-year old to understand and it stands to reason that it flew right over Jack's head. But that's alright, because it's almost painfully adorable to see Jack trying to command the eggs into coming over to him, almost exasperate in the way he's pointing at Bunnymund. Being called a big bunny gets a raised eyebrow but he can't really tell the kid otherwise, since, well—he is a bunny. It'd be nice to hear his actually name somewhere in there, too, but what can he do. But Jack doesn't know how stubborn the eggs are, especially when they tend to attach to the thing they like, like bee to pollen.

If anything, the eggs get more and more animated, climbing as far up as they can and then tumbling their way down. Bunnymund's sure that if they could talk (or at least make noises) they would be squealing with delight. "Hey, mate, it's alright. I play with them plenty," he calls out, having been nudged so far back that Jack looks like he is literally being submerged by googies, no matter how hard he tries to shove them away.

He crosses his arms across his chest, and can't help but chuckle at the sight of Mini-Frost crawling through his enormous group of admirers towards him. It's not every day you get the chance to see something like that (it's not like letting children into his personal lair is a common thing) and it's almost a pity he doesn't have a camera to savour this moment. Might make good blackmail material, in the possibility that Jack has no recollection of this when he gets turned back to normal size, age and mentality.

So he pretends not to notice Jack running up to him and hiding behind his leg, humming contemplatively and tapping his chin. The eggs stop just short of tackling him, coming to a stop in front of him and tilting their heads up to peer at him. "Hmm… I wonder where he went," Bunnymund says to the eggs, turning his head this way and that and purposefully not looking anywhere below his line of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Its clear even to him that the other is enjoying this nearly as much as he is. For one reason or another, a reason no 3-year-old could possibly identify, it makes him happy. The reason being, of course is that he is still fundamentally who he was a few hours ago, the SAME Jack Frost. So even if he doesn't realize it or can't understand it, seeing someone else enjoying something he's doing makes him ultimately happy. Which of course in his child mind translates to more laughs.

Now, however, he's trying REALLY hard not to laugh. He's failing even worse, hugging the leg tighter and hiding his face in the warm fur. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and muffle it and presses more against his leg. Of course then the eggs start to look around for him too. He can see them peeking around the leg to look at him. They seem to want to rush over but its as if something is holding them back. There is no way to fend them off.. But then he gets an idea. Something the mean older kids used to do to him, as he remembers. He peers around the leg then backs up a little, letting go and preparing himself.

He quietly counts to 3 before taking a tiny jump out in front of them and raising his arms, palms out. "Boo!" he can't help laughing, so it doesn't have quite an intimidating effect. The eggs do back up a little bit, but they don't scatter. And it is possible the only reason they even moved is because at the same moment he jumped and raised his hands a small shower of snow emitted from them, covering the ground in front of him lightly (and some of the eggs who shake it off). His eyes grow wide and he stares at his hands in shock. He had no idea he could do that! He turns his enormous gaze up to Bunny, looking for some kind of explanation, or at least to see if he was as surprised to see it as himself. It goes back to his hands, then to the eggs, and back to Bunny. Not sure what to make of the development

* * *

The weight against his leg starts to quiver and vibrate even more, the grip of Jack's arm strong enough to start cutting off circulation to the lower half (which is really worrisome, mind you), and for a brief moment he thinks—now you've done it, idiot, gone and somehow scared the poor kid to tears, how are you even gonna fix this now—before he hears the muffled giggles. He looks down, sees the smile that's just way too big for so small a hand to hide, and feels ridiculously relieved.

—then promptly has a mini heart attack when Jack jumps out and sprays the eggs with sprinkles of snow. Now, he's not that big of a stickler that some flakes of crystallized water make his hackles rise, but that's not really the problem is it. No, the problem is what's going to happen now that Jack realizes his frosty powers don't just come from that lumpy stick alone, because Jack's a 3-year with unlimited imagination and Bunnymund has seen what 3-years can do when they put their mind to something, including but not exclusive to Easter eggs that hide in places that could logically never be reached.

"Of all the bloody things…" he grumbles to himself, watching as some of the eggs reach out tentatively to touch the snowflakes on the ground with their feet then proceed to jump on them. But Jack looks up at him, shocked but awed, and Bunnymund can only try to smile in an effort not to grimace at what could possibly be turned into a very big mess if he doesn't do something fast, but he's not really sure what, and ends up with an expression that's halfway stuck between why me and affectionate. "It ain't just the stick, mate."

* * *

Of course he knows it's a confirmation of his suspicion. That he could do this all on his own… He knew what the stuff was, though not what it was called exactly. He had no idea people could do that! He stares hard at his hands for a second, as if willing them to try it again. He aims for the air above him this time and throws his hands up, laughing as another shower of flakes comes down, this time landing on his head. He shakes them off and looks around him, wanting to figure out what else he could do.

Well his friends seemed to enjoy it, maybe he could give them more to play with. However as he holds out his hands nothing happens. He whines a little and emphasizes his motion, trying to make something happen. They didn't seem to want to react. Not only being without his staff but being young has made his power more sporadic and less likely to work on command. He pouts and tries a few more times, jabbing his hands and fingers out as quickly and "effectively" as he can. Eventually, a powerful force shoots from his hand, knocking him back onto his butt in the grass and making him shriek in surprise. A small patch of grass in front of him is frozen. He jumps up and backs up into his companion's leg again, shrinking a little in confusion and surprise, even a bit of fear. He didn't know he could do that either.

Once he's decided the patch of frozen grass was not going anywhere (and certainly wasn't going to hurt anyone) he ventures away from the leg. He looks around; grass, grass, grass.. Wait. There was the waterfall not too far away, landing in a big pool of water. He smiles widely and makes his way towards it, laughing as his big crowd of friends follows him. He looks into the pool and tilts his head, looking at his reflection. He slaps the surface of the water, jumping (though not quite so dramatically) as more tendrils of light and ice flow from his hand and fingertips. He moves around the pool, slapping and poking at the surface until it was frozen over, as well as the waterfall, though only with a fairly thin layer.

He moves to slap it again but this time his hand hits only ice. He frowns and cradles his hand from the sting. It was completely solid! He widens his eyes and smiles, getting an idea. He stands and makes his way out onto the pool, laughing and sliding a little. A loud crack makes him jump, it was like nothing he's ever heard before, except it was familiar, somehow. He knew either way it meant something bad. As he edges his way nervously towards the bank the waterfall cracks, then shatters. Shards of it rain down and stick into the pool, making it crack as well, and finally start to burst. He lets out another shriek, but there was nothing but fear in this one. The pool wasn't deep, and it wasn't cold below the top layer. But to a little 3 year old who couldn't swim it was bad. He does his best to scramble towards shore in a panic, not thinking to try and solidify the ice behind him.

* * *

It felt like Bunnymund was forced to watch one of his very-much-annoyed dreams come to life right in front of his eyes, letting a Winter Sprite run amuck in his home for whatever reason his dreams didn't explain, except that now Jack Frost is an infant who walks as badly as he speaks and the smug grin is a bright laughter. He's suspected that the kid's powers of ice and frost aren't all that dependent on the staff alone (that ability to fly, though…) but to see it for himself was something else altogether. Still, it didn't mean it left him feeling any better about the random bouts of snow sprinkling out of Jack's palms, even if the eggs are hysteric with excitement.

Hell, he isn't even all that surprised when another patch of grass becomes victim to another beam of ice, because it would be too much to ask that Jack's power come a little at a time and he's been running down on luck in general lately. Patting Jack's head a little to placate the lil' guy a little, if nothing else, Bunnymund deigns himself to what might as well be his Fate. North would definitely benefit from all this sudden-bursts-of-icicle-imagination a lot better than he would, but Jack's made it abundant clear he's kinda attached to him, so.

( and he'll never, ever admit it to anyone—not even under extreme duress—but he's might just kinda grown fond of little Jack Frost too. Just a little )

He follows behind as Jack takes off as fast as those legs can take him to the waterfall, and feels a small seed of worry blossom when the kid kneels down a bit too close to the edge for his liking. It wasn't really all that deep a pool, just a few centimetres higher than the dye river, but it wasn't a risk Bunnymund liked. Especially when he knew enough of Jack's past to know falling into a large pool of water was a big deal. But maybe, just maybe, this transformation included something that separated the memory between the former and end forms…

As he contemplates this, he doesn't notice Jack freezing the surface of a portion of the pool, doesn't notice Jack stepping onto the thin sheet of ice—doesn't notice any of those things until a loud, jarring crack breaks into his thoughts, and he blinks just in time just to see the ice splinter and Jack fall into the water with a loud cry. Like a shot of fear injected straight into his veins, Bunnymund is alert and up in the blink of an eye, and rushes for the edge of the pool as the crowd of eggs scatter immediately around him. He jumps into the water without a second thought, because another second wasted is another second Jack's still in danger, and wraps his arm around Jack's waist—"Hold on, mate, I got you."—before pulling the both of them up onto the bank.

Bunnymund lays him down, shaking the water off of him, and turns back to check Jack over for any injuries—ignoring the fact that it was just drowning, but it's never a never bad idea to be sure. He's not sure what to do, though, so he's pretty much just hovering and hoping that it's nothing serious.


	4. Chapter 4

He can see his large, furry caregiver on the bank, and he wants so badly to get to him. He's nearly on the edge when everything completely crumbles under him. Maybe it was the attempt to push off the already thin and breaking ice. The jump that just broke under his feet and landed him plunged into water. Not quite as cold as the layer above it, but all the same terrifying. His natural instinct is the scream, and so he does. But its practically soundless, and even he knows that he can't take in another breath when he's finished because he simply can't breath. He wants to cry, but would that even be possible? He's scrambling and flailing, trying to get back up to the hole as the layer of ice, because of his own panic, was starting to freeze back over.

The feeling is so familiar. In some messed up, long lost… Something he can't identify. He isn't SUPPOSED to remember anything like this. He isn't at the age where he has experienced it already… But his heart, his knowledge (even in his subconscious) of being older and rediscovering a memory similar to this.. Remembering that he's remembered something. Of course, he doesn't know this. Not in the front of his mind. Just that it is the most scared he's ever been. Horrified and upset and he has only ever felt like this once before, because this terror is something he knows.

It probably isn't more then 10 seconds before he's pulled out again, but that is nearly a lifetime to a small child in the moment. He first remembers to take a breath, getting his lungs much needed air and blinking the water out of his eyes as he reorients himself. His second instinct is to scream. To scream and shriek and panic all the belated panicking that was deserved when he couldn't really react at all. While he screams he scrambles over to his companion and hugs his leg again, burying his face and crying into the wet fur. When he's done screaming he just looks up at him with wet, wide eyes and wet face, reaching his arms up so he'll pick him up. He's exhausted and scared and he just wants something to cuddle with, like he always had when he was upset.

* * *

The eggs start to shuffle back closer to Jack, slow and hesitant, and Bunnymund gives them the signal to stop a few inches away—the kid's just gone through a traumatic experience (for the second time), so there's just no telling what he's going to do next, though hopefully it won't be anything like a miniature blizzard or snowstorm, or anything else his latent powers are bursting to create as a way to deal with the distress. But Bunnymund's not all that worried about the possible damage that might cause, as long as Jack is alright, and he's all sorts of relieved when the kid moves to sit up.

He reached out with a wet paw, wanting to offer whatever comfort he can, and gets as far as saying, "Take it easy, you're not in dan—" before a piercing scream interrupts him. One ear flops flat against his back in surprise, and the wet sensation is bloody uncomfortable, but Bunnymund doesn't get much time to think on his discomfort when Jack is sprinting towards him and tackling his leg again. This time, though, with the outright crying and sniffling, there is no doubt that the kid got a big scare out of this, and Bunnymund takes to rubbing Jack's back soothingly until the sobs slowly fade to sniffles. He tries not to notice how each cry is like setting fire to his nerves.

In case it isn't obvious enough, this sort of thing really isn't up his alley in any way, but he's doing the best he can. So he reaches down and picks Jack up without missing a beat, because he didn't have the heart to say no, not to an expression like that. Shuffling around a bit until they're both relatively comfortable, Bunnymund decides that now would probably be a good time to say something reassuring, and racks his brain. He wraps an arm tentatively around Jack, unsure if the kid's alright with it or not, and whispers, soft and intimate: "It's alright now, Jack, you're safe. Nothing'll ever happen to you when I'm around. I promise."

* * *

The feeling of fur, even wet fur, against his body, and the hand down his back is soothing. It keeps his mind together, away from that awful place, out of his memories he doesn't realize he has. Gives him something to hold on to, to keep him in the present. He is reduced to slow sobs, and then he is mostly cried out and just left to sniffling. The wet was only mildly uncomfortable, and clearly the cold didn't bother him in the least. He just needed someone to comfort him, someone he clearly cared about.

As soon as he's in his arms, he has his own tiny arms spread wide to hug him. He doesn't cover much width, but he still clings and hugs and buries his face in the fur. Even secretly (or maybe not so secretly, how secretive can a small 3 year old be?) places a tiny kiss on his big shoulder. He'd often done that with things he liked or appreciated. People were often surprised at how affectionate he was, for the tiny little devil he was. As the arm is around him he feels instantly calmer, and things start to pass. If he has one remarkable trait it is to bounce back from nearly anything. So while he isn't quite himself, he does give a tiny smile the next time he looks at him.

After crying so much, and after all the activity he's been doing, his head is fogged up. Clouded with exhaustion, and the warmth of the air around him made him sleepy. Also, having the physical endurance of a young boy, didn't leave him a whole day to play. He needed a nap, badly. He curls up instinctively against the warm body, and even though it SHOULD have bothered him, it didn't. The comfort was more overpowering then the discomfort. He blinks tiredly and yawns, leaning against him and bringing a thumb up to latch onto. He wants to stay awake and play, he wants to spend more time enjoying himself. He can hardly keep his eyes open though, and it doesn't take him very long to fall asleep. At least start to, anytime his friend would try and put him down or leave him alone he would cling tighter, waking up just enough to whine and tug at him for him to stay. Once or twice, even calling his name in his plea, though hazily and half asleep.

* * *

Bunnymund tries not to think about how weirdly comfortable he is right now, cradling little Jack Frost to his chest and rocking back and forth as he hums whatever tune comes to mind, but he's definitely not as bothered by it as he thought he would be. Then again, he's been wrong about lots of things he thought he'd be opposed to lately, so that's not all that surprising—like what he's pretty sure was a kiss on his shoulder, but that could just be him thinking too much out of something innocent. As it is, he's just hoping this doesn't leave any sort of permanent scar, and returns the small curl of Jack's smile that's directed up at him with a smile of his own.

He doesn't stop rubbing Jack's back, not even when the wet fabric of the shirt starts to clump against his paw, and hitches him higher up when the kid starts to nod off to sleep. Bunnymund isn't sure if a Winter Sprite can catch a cold, but the Easter Bunny doesn't have the convenience of being immune to any sort of cold so he has to get himself dry before he really does end up catching something. But every time he thinks to even loosen his hold, Jack's eyes blink up, sluggish and languid, and the grip around Bunnymund gets that little bit more tight before loosening.

"I'm not leavin' ya, buddy, but you're gonna have to change yer clothes before you sleep," he mutters, tightening his hold around Jack, and feels his own eyes droop for a moment. Who knew, sleepiness was contagious. So he calls up a tunnel to take them deep into the centre, where he kept the small cot, blankets and spare change of clothes that Tooth forced him to take along (and good on her for that). Just in case, she had said, and now that he thought about it, she seems to have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to Jack, which…is pretty damn useful, actually.

Bunnymund lies the kid down, picks up the clothes—then stops. And stares.

* * *

He squirms with delight at the returned smile, fighting between sleep and wakefulness. IT was clear the other wanted to keep him awake. It was difficult though, with every bit of him tugging at sleep! He keeps trying to get away..! But he wants him to stay, and he shows it. Its nearly impossible to convince him to let go of his grip until they are through the tunnel, into a smaller little hovel. Even at the sight of the beds he isn't convinced. When he sees the clothes in his paws though, he reluctantly agrees, and loosens his grip.

Then he stops… He isn't quite sure why he stops. He tilts his head and coos up at him a little, sitting up hazily. He yawns and looks at the clothes he's holding, bedtime clothes. And they definitely looked comfortable. He begins to tug at his shirt, lifting it over his head as it peels off his skin. He gets a little stuck, trying to get his head through, but he makes it. He peers below the fabric at him, giggling before attempting to throw it off to the side. Except its stuck on his arms and he can't get it off! He makes frustrated noises as he tries to shake it off. When he receives assistance he unwaveringly works on his tiny pants, tugging them down and falling on his butt to try and get them off his legs, which he also needs some assistance with.

When he's completely undressed, he grabs at the dry clothes. He can't really grip them, but he wants them. He's figured out by now that for whatever reason, Bunny doesn't quite know what he's doing. So he makes it his mission to show him, at least as best he can. Because he still has trouble with sleeves and stuff like that. He recoils with a soft shriek and a laugh as, in their attempts to put on the shirt, he feels soft fur (mostly dried at the ends) brush against his arms and sides. He squirms before cautiously cooperating again to get the shirt on. Getting pants on is slightly more difficult, as he yawns and his vision goes a little blurry from the exhaustion. They make it, however, and he sits on the bed, reluctant to lay back until he has his arms over him again.

* * *

This…could be awkward, Bunnymund thinks, looking from the clothes that are dangling from his paw, then to Jack, and back to the clothes, because it's not something he comes into contact with very often (if at all). But it's not like he can just leave the kid in the soggy outfit, out of comfort rather than the chances of getting a cold, so he's gotta do what he's gotta do, whether he can actually do it or not. And maybe, if he's lucky, Jack already knows how this is all supposed to go down so that Bunnymund won't have to.

So he can only watch intently when Jack starts to pull the shirt over his head—which looks all sorts of difficult that Bunnymund will never understand—and briefly gets caught around the neck opening. He's hesitant to help since he might just make it worse, but ends up reaching forward and having to peel the wet shirt sleeve away when Jack gets distressed. Then came the pants, which also required some of his help, but he's got to admit that it seems a lot easier to wear than a shirt. Till now it wasn't all that bad, so he had relatively high hopes that getting Jack dressed again isn't going to be that much of an issue.

They get through it pretty fast, though Bunnymund was careful not to get too close since Jack kept giggling whenever fur tickled him by accident—"Sorry, mate," he had said, sheepish—and he stands back to admire their collaborative handwork. Not too shabby, if he does say so himself, and can't help but smirk, proud. Also not something he's keen to do again, but still, it was good for a first attempt.

"Time to go to sleep," he announces, dumping the pile of blankets onto the bed and waiting expectantly for Jack to lay back down. But he doesn't, and Bunnymund gives him a little nudge. "Mate. You gonna sleep or what?"

* * *

He can't help feeling pretty good in the light of the other's pride, even if it was only getting dressed. Something he'd done a bunch of times by now. It was like it was infectious. Maybe he just liked being the center of attention. That seemed to be the case most of the time. Either way, he jumps and looks wide eyed at the blankets for a second. He wanted to dive right in and bury himself in them! They looked so nice. He doesn't respond at first because he's tired, so he is sort of spacey and just stares for a little bit. After he nudges him though he looks up and shakes his head. Then he reaches forward and latches onto his arm, tugging him down to sit on the bed.

When he's down he takes quick advantage of it. He scrambles hastily into his lap, sitting down and nestling in. He gives him a pleading look but he doesn't seem to get it just yet. He looks around and reaches, grabbing a bit of the blanket and leaning more against him, settling down before tugging it up over them. He tilts his head up to smile at him, 'innocent' practically radiating off him, even though he was basically giving him no option but to take a nap with him. He curls up and points to the pillow, because they clearly can't sleep sitting up! And he definitely was not letting him go for anything.

When he seems to resign himself to his fate, he relaxes, yawning again and bringing his thumb again to his mouth. He mutters something tiredly, that sounds like it possibly could be his rendition of 'goodnight' with his friend's name thrown in there. It is hard to tell with a thumb in his mouth. He's asleep quickly afterwards.

Sometime later in the day, perhaps only hours later, he wakes up faintly. He's drowsy and he can't even remember falling asleep. He doesn't always sleep, since he doesn't necessarily need it. He's even more confused when he doesn't recognize where he is. All he knows is that it smells like earth, and its dim. Then he slowly becomes aware of a mass of fur under him. It takes all his willpower not to jump with shock, instead to calmly open his eyes a bit more. They were still fuzzy, unfocused, but it's obvious who is laying next to him. He blinks and flushes the slightest bit in confusion. How on EARTH did he get here? And WHY would he be laying here, asleep, with Bunny (who was clearly also asleep). The worst part was not all of that, but the fact that it didn't bother him besides the initial disorientation of waking up somewhere completely unfamiliar. He actually sort of.. Enjoys it… He isn't sure what's going on in his head, in fact it is just left over thoughts from his former age. He can't recall a thing that happened beforehand, but he knows he isn't ready to move yet, for whatever reason. So he makes sure the other is still asleep before cautiously resting his head back where it was, even curling up again, pretending it never happened. He hadn't seen himself laying there with him. Right before he closes his eyes to fall back asleep, he sees a faint gold glow. His memory doesn't bother to keep it, or to register exactly what it is. It seems less important then sleep at the moment, and enjoying the position.


	5. Chapter 5

One carrot, two carrots, three, four, five… Six carrots, seven carrots, eight, nine, ten…

It's a nice dream, one that Bunnymund doesn't often get because he doesn't usually sleep all that much either, but there's something definitely different from all the other times. For one, he's not alone. It's someone he knows, sitting beside him as he counts, someone he might even consider a friend—but there's no face or body, only the chilling touch of a frosty breeze and a plain of white-dusted grass.

Then just like that, he's awake, sharp and alert. The tendrils of the dream are slipping away, like sand falling through your fingers, but that doesn't matter at all because he's noticed by now the heavy weight lying on top of him and the tuft of water-dried white hair tickling his nose. His first reaction is to throw the body off of him as far as possible, because how in bloody hell did Jack Frost sneak into his Warren—and his goddamn bed!—before his memory finally kicks in. He remembers Mini-Frost finding his powers, the incident in the pool, changing clothes, then going to sleep together (which sounds weird no matter which way he says it)… But that doesn't explain how the kid is no longer a kid anymore, does it?

Still, he can't just wait until Frost wakes up, since that might take who knows how long, and Bunnymund doesn't want to be here for the eventual awkward silence that's going to happen when Frost does wake up and finds himself sleeping on top of the Easter Bunny. So he slowly inches out from underneath, carefully pushing the other off him at the same time, and rubs at his eyes—only to see the glitter of golden dust on his paw.

* * *

His own dreams are slightly more complicated and a bit telltale. He knows he's himself, but… He's small... Short... and he even feels younger. It's a rush of events and he can't quite pin down any in particular. The same figure it there though, throughout all of them. Blurred, dark but not frighteningly so, familiar even though he can't see or remember a single detail. It's a rush of things, mostly good, and he really, really likes being with this figure, even if he can't quite tell who or what it is. Though as he starts to regain consciousness and his brain starts to function again, he has a sinking, almost unnerving feeling he knows who it is. Before he can pin it down, his eyes start to open and another figure takes its place. It starts out blurry, then starts to gain a form, some color, then a defined shape. When he realizes who it is he bolts upright, scrambling backwards in surprise, because WHAT was he DOING here?! With him?!

It isn't too long after the other had scooted out from under him that he'd woken himself up. So he was still there, standing as though he'd been on the bed, and the spot next to him was definitely warm and… He just stares in confusion at the blanket, at the spot next to him, at the other figure… From the way he was positioned, his tired brain makes at least enough sense to tell him that they would have had to be extremely close. How long were they like that? WHY were they like that? Why was he even in this place, leaving himself completely vulnerable in a place he knows he isn't supposed to be. Well he's unharmed, which isn't particularly surprising, but he isn't suffering in any other way either (except maybe from humiliation because this was just WEIRD) so something was definitely up.

He looks at him suspiciously, clearing his own eyes before starting on him. Except.. Hang on… This.. On the bed, in his hand, and the other's too. Was this sand? Was this some weird joke?! Like they were making fun of him or something! Except he always put up such a front, they were always fighting. Nobody could POSSIBLY just guess how much he actually enjoyed the big pest's company. How much he really didn't mind him, and most of his teasing was just playful, despite what he says. He looks around but of course, they're alone by now. He turns back on him and gropes around for his staff, nowhere to be found. Perfect.  
"You wanna tell me _why_ I woke up i—Uh.. Here…?"

* * *

He stares at the powdered sand like it was alive and had three heads, then blinks in confusion, because what the hell was Sandman's magic dust doing in his eyes, anyways? Unless, of course, the Guardian of Dreams had actually been here personally to sprinkle it, which meant that he had to have seen the two of them sleeping togeth—uh, on the same bed—and oh that sneaky son of a gun, if Bunnymund ever gets his hands on him... But if Sandy knows, then that must mean by now Tooth and North also know because Sandy loves gossip, and dammit there is no way he can look them in the eyes when they next meet.

Movement from the bed catches his eye, and he turns back to check on Frost—only to find him staring down at the blanket with wide-eyed confusion. Bunnymund stiffens, that fight-or-flight instinct making his ears twitch uncomfortably, and manages to just stop from disappearing somewhere far; Australia seems like a safe bet, just in case, and it'll (probably) deter Frost from chasing after him for answers. Except then he sees the gleaming sand fall from Frost's eyes as well and starts cursing up a storm in his mind, body moving along with the beat—because Sandman's magic works differently with those who aren't children, because it makes you dream of things you never knew you wanted and emphasizes the things that you do want but keep hidden from the world. Which is something he doesn't want to contemplate on, since he can still remember bits and pieces of his dream, and just no.

"Look, I can explain," Bunnymund says hurriedly, putting his paws up in defense of himself. This was not the way he had imagined waking up, that's for sure, but he could understand that waking up in a foreign place could be a little weird, especially if you went to sleep as a child. "Or I can try, but you gotta listen to the entire story before you react, 'cause I—" He blinks, running Frost's question over again in his head. "Woah, hold on, are you saying you don't remember how you got here? At all?"

* * *

As he wakes up more and more, he recalls a little more. Not about anything before he fell asleep of course, but about his dreams. As well as, to his surprise, waking up a while ago and seeing the big mass under him, feeling the fur and even still snuggling closer to go back to sleep. Though he tries to console himself by assuming, judging by the sand nearly everywhere now that he's noticed it, his friend had a part to play in that. Which makes him twitchy as well, because he's got the same thoughts. That if he knew, saw what he did, then everyone else would know in a very short time. Definitely by the time they both got back to the Pole. It wasn't going to be easy to face any of them. Maybe he could play it off…

Maybe it had something to do with whatever Bunny was hiding (and he suspected perhaps the others knew about it too) and if that's the case, maybe he couldn't be blamed for it. His suspicion grows again and he crosses his arms. "N…No…?" He isn't sure what he's insinuating. He may have just made a mistake though, admitting he really had no idea how he ended up down here. "I just know I woke up… Just now… If you had something to do with this…" Not that he'd REALLY do anything to him, unless something else happened that he didn't know about. Really, he didn't mind having woken up here, except that it's going to be hell to live down. He gets off the bed, a bit wobbly for one reason or another. He supposes that he's still just used to laying in bed. Mostly is the change in his balance, having instantly grown quite a few feet and gained more weight. He stretches and walks around the little cavern, careful to stay in earshot. However, he was looking for his staff.

* * *

Bunnymund blinks as one of his ears flops back, a little muddled. Okay. So. Frost doesn't remember anything that happened yesterday, apparently, which could either be the truth or just mean that he's pretty decent an actor. But Bunnymund's also pretty good at spotting a lie, and judging by the other's expression and body language it might not be as much of a fib as he thought. "Okay," he mutters, slow, because he hasn't completely thought everything through yet and he maybe just might be a little bit distracted by the fact that Frost turned back to normal when they were sleeping in the same bed. Whoever's fault this is, they have a bloody twisted sense of humour because this has got to be some kind of sick joke.

"Okay," he repeats to himself, watching Frost wandering about in pyjama clothes that seemed to have grown with him, and ignores the weird tingling in his paws. He finally registers what the brat had just threatened, returning with an indignant, "Hey! I had nothin' to do with this!" because he didn't—not with the turning-Jack-into-a-child thing, anyways—and that wasn't really all that much of a lie. "You had a, uh… There was just somethin' wrong with you for a while, nothing too bad, so North decided to stick the two of us together because his good ol' belly—" note the sarcasm here "—told 'im. But you're back to bloody normal now, which is all that matters."

* * *

He's still walking, but more pacing now then anything. Because nearly everything in his head was bothering him right now. Bits and pieces were coming back to him, nothing that could possibly make him guess what had happened, but visions from his dream. What stuck in his mind clearly was his perspective in the dream, nearly always looking up at things. He was nearly as tall as Bunny though, he hardly looked up at anything! Except Bunny himself of course. And speaking of, that was another uneasy feeling he had about his dream. That Bunny was there in it. Though he couldn't remember a thing about what they'd been doing, and he suspects that maybe his head was confusing his dream with the odd sensation of waking up with him there.

He lets out a disbelieving laugh that he had nothing to do with it. He woke up in his bed! How much more 'to do with it' did he have to be? The weird thing was how earnest he sounded. He rarely lied of course… That did not count omission though, and Bunny was definitely hiding something. He rounds on him quickly, because what he says catches his ear. He wants to know what it is. " 'Somethin' wrong with me'?" he makes a half assed mimic, poking fun at his accent. "Is that the best you can do? Now you have to tell me!" Because he knows, he already feels something was wrong with him, but he needed to know what. To know he didn't do anything he was going to regret. He folds his arms and regards him with suspicion. "Does everyone know this 'something'?"

* * *

Bunnymund bristles slightly at the laugh that sounds condescending at best, and takes in a deep breath, because the kid had a right to be suspicious, waking up in your rival's (are they even rivals anymore? Hell, he doesn't even know) bed and all. And besides, it's not as if he's telling Frost anything useful right now, trying to be cryptic and everything, so he's pretty sure that's gotta be frustrating as heck. But Bunnymund's not a liar, never had the heart to fib to anybody, especially when all he sees when he looks at Frost in those damn pyjamas right now is the child looking up at him and smiling. Which, might he add, is not helping in the least.

The attempt to copy his accent doesn't either, and he narrows his eyes. The words 'I don't have to tell you anything if I don't want to' are on the tip of his tongue, but he manages to swallow it back with extreme difficulty. Might as well try and use some of that "meditation" stuff Sandy's being shoving down his throat lately, though Bunnymund doubts it's going to work. He's facing Jack Frost of all people, one of the few people who makes Bunnymund do things he normally doesn't. "Look, kid, you have to ask the right questions if you want the right answers, and that ain't one of them." As he says that, a group of egglets scramble into the room, balancing Frost's staff on top of their heads, and stops in front of him. Just in time, he thinks. Bunnymund picks it up, gives Frost a side-glance to see his reaction, and holds it out for him to take. "Wanna try again?"


	6. Chapter 6

He can tell he's made a bit of a mistake, and it ruffles him even more. Because he's just so FRUSTRATED already and he doesn't know what to do! It was just sort of a habit! He is pacing harder now, until he just runs a hand through his hair and sits on the bed, holding his head a little. At first he just doesn't register that his staff is there, but then he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. He tenses, his fingertips digging into his leg. Because he's defenseless and for some reason seeing someone else with his staff really makes him tense. Just because HE would never do anything to Bunny did not mean the same was true for the other.

But he doesn't do anything but let him have it. He nervously lays a hand on it and breaths a sigh of relief, relaxing instantly as his hand curls around it and he's got it in his grips again. He hadn't realized how unnerving it really was to be parted from his staff before. He shakes his head. "Okay… Yeah.. Sorry…" He takes a breath to calm himself down and fiddles with his staff. "I need to know what happened to me. Just so I know… I didn't do anything I'll regret. What kind of thing was it? Who did it?' he wasn't used to being quite so.. Vulnerable in front of him. Really though, he was getting pretty freaked out. He wasn't sure what had happened and he wanted to make these images in his head STOP, or at least make some sense. He can only hope he wont take advantage of him like this. He'd given his stick back.. That was good, right?

* * *

The reaction is exactly what he thought it would be—tension, discomfort, and the bare hint of vulnerability. The suspicion is also there, though, which Bunnymund understands completely since being defenseless sits well with no one, but it doesn't mean he can't be unhappy about it. Still. He's careful not to hold onto the staff for too long and drops it into Frost's accepting hand without any hesitation, because he can feel it trying to freeze up his fur, and that is just not appreciated. At all. "No problem," he replies, subtly brushing the icicles from his hand and coughs a little, trying to go for nonchalant but making it more awkward for himself. He doesn't think it's ever going to not be weird hearing Jack Frost apologize to him of all people.

"Look, it's…complicated." He curses himself for the stupid dodge, and rubs at his head sheepishly before sighing. It's not like he can hide it from the kid, not since he knows just how stubborn Frost can be when he wants something, but Bunnymund's just not sure if telling him at this very moment is all that swell of an idea. As long as he keeps away from the details of what actually happened as a child, though, and things should be fine… He hopes. "I know you want to know everything right now, but first you tell me anything you do remember—vague memories and whatnot, just so I know where to start. Second, you gotta promise me that you won't start flippin' out on me, no matter what I say. No…loose ice-ball cannons 'round the place, alright?" He's already got enough damage-control to deal with, thank you very much.

* * *

He expects to get a hard time about it. To meet at least a little resistance of some kind. It seems, though, that his companion (friend?) is either feeling especially generous, or is as weirded out as he is. He would guess the latter. Either way, he has his staff back, and he doesn't seem particularly angry about his outburst. He'll take it for what it's worth. They were both, clearly, equally uncomfortable with the apology. It just didn't happen, it was sort of just understood that none of the teasing they did was serious. That no matter what they said or did, neither meant anything really malicious by it. It might have been different at one point, near the beginning. Somewhere along the way, though, they had gained a little more respect for each other. Eventually he even started to enjoy the other's company, though he would never say it. He had a feeling their friends all could see it too. What else did they know…?

He crosses his arms and leans up against the wall, sighing. He was tired of all the avoidance, he just wanted to get a straight answer. He has to keep his head together though, if he loses it now he'd never know. He sets his staff down, though not very far from him. He hoped this might be some reassurance to him. "Alright, alright. I won't touch it." He tries to remember anything he can… It's pretty much hopeless though. He shrugs. "Told you, nothing much to remember. If I try hard, I think I can remember everyone in the Globe Room at the Pole. But that doesn't really mean anything, right?" While they hadn't spent much time together beforehand, they'd discovered a little time together every so often was probably good for them. It strengthened them and made it hard for anyone to go astray. "I remember.. Looking up a lot? Like I was on the ground or something, like my dream. A big, furry shape… Wonder who /that/ could be…" he's wearing a little smile, just to lighten the mood a bit. "Other then that… Waking up here…"

* * *

He watches, apprehensive, as the staff is put down a safe distance away—not really all that far away from the owner, but it's a pretty meaningful gesture of cooperation nonetheless (one that he honestly hadn't expected out of the other since that staff obviously meant a lot) and Bunnymund's ready to accept whatever he can get at this moment; though that doesn't stop him from wanting to pace in thought. He starts tapping his foot against the ground subconsciously as he listens to Frost talk. Globe Room, huh. So there's still some recollection of when he first got turned into a kid, but nothing else up until waking up here… Alright, I can work with that. He tries to give Frost a smile for the light attempt to lift the tense atmosphere, but it comes out as crooked and not-quite-right—because there is no way that dreaming about each other is not weird, especially since Bunnymund hasn't had dreams like that (not alone and—content) for a long while now.

"Yeah, wonder who…" he grumbles to himself, and sighs. "Alright, look, I don't know what you did that started this whole bleedin' mess, but whatever it was pissed the hell out of someone, enough that they turned you into a 3-year-old." He doesn't wait for Frost's reaction before continuing on, ready to ignore any questions that may pop up until he's finished. "Which explains the lookin' up a lot part. As for waking up here…" He pauses a bit, not sure how to start. He's definitely going to leave out the pool-incident, as well as the fact that Mini-Frost had forced the two of them to sleep in the same bed cuddled together; might as well try to save the kid (and him) from dying of embarrassment. "You must've snuck in here somehow—sleepwalking, maybe?—and turned back in the night. You can blame North's gut instinct for making me take care of ya, and just about everything else." He decides to stop there, not sure if he covered everything in his haste just to get it all out, and glances over, ears swaying uncertainly. "Questions?"

* * *

Whatever the hell happened clearly has him nervous. Flustered even. That makes HIM nervous, because why on earth would something that happened to him make Bunny nervous to talk about? It had to be something bad if it bothered him this much. He can't even really smile properly. He has to remind himself a little that his companion was ALWAYS at least a little on edge about something, rightfully. He was still mostly rabbit and not only that but the entire balance of Spring and rebirth in the world rested on his shoulders. It would be enough to make anyone uptight. Maybe that was when he gained a little more respect for him, realizing that even when his own burden was pretty heavy, the big pest's was at least 100 times more so. He couldn't do much about it himself, but as was his natural instinct to want to make things a little better, and a little easier to enjoy for people he cared about, he did what he could to ease him.

Everything seems to start off normal, though he can't remember being particularly on anyone's bad side recently… And then the next thing he says..! He straightens up from the wall and looks at him incredulously. What did he just say?! He even starts to laugh as he says it, because it sounds absolutely ridiculous! Then he continues.. And keeps talking… And it's clear that he isn't joking one bit. He was really… A kid? He's still astonished by the time he finishes, and it takes him a moment to blink out of his trance.

"Only about 10 or 20…" He shakes his head and slumps back against the wall.  
"Why… Can't I remember any of this? So I was just.. Here? The whole time?" Not only did he have questions, but some he couldn't ask. It definitely seemed like he wasn't telling the whole story, the way it was rushed, the way he stumbled on some parts.. It just seemed like he was hiding something still. If he didn't say them then, he probably wouldn't say them at all. He might have to go find out the whole story from everyone else, if they knew. Though if he was around him the whole time they might not know any more then he's just found out. A small smile plays on his face. "What was I like?" and then it fades, and he shakes his head with a laugh. Because of course he wouldn't tell him, or at least… He wouldn't like what he heard. "Nevermind. I was probably a pest." He grabs his staff and gets off the bed, balancing himself. "So how much does everyone else know…?"

* * *

"Got no idea, mate. Maybe you're just not supposed to remember it." Which makes next to no sense, but it's not like Bunnymund can just say what he really thinks triggered the selective amnesia—that the suppression of memories is just a way Frost's mind copes with any changes to his body—without revealing that he knows more than he should. And ain't that already a sticky mess already… "But yeah, you were here the entire time. North's busy preparing for Christmas, and Tooth and Sandy couldn't take care of ya while they're out working, so you got stuck with me. Might not be such a good thing that you don't remember, huh," he tries to joke, laughing a little in an attempt to direct his mind away from how he had omitted how all of the other Guardians had volunteered to be caretaker before he had even arrived and the fact that Mini-Frost had refused to let go once those little hands got a good hold on him. As long as he doesn't ask me directly I don't really have to answer, Bunnymund thinks.

He opens his mouth to answer what almost sounded like a rhetorical question, but raises an eyebrow at the way that Frost cuts in before hearing an answer and wonders if that counts as being self-conscious. "Nah, you weren't all that bad as a kid, to be honest. Tad more hyperactive than I'm used to but nothing I couldn't handle. Though the random patches of frozen grass ain't all that appreciated." He offers a small smile without looking at the other, finding extreme interest in the ground. "They all saw your child form, if that's what yer really asking—probably explains why you remember the Globe Room since that's where you changed. As for what else they know…" Bunnymund jerks his head at the golden dust on the floor. "…that's up for debate."

* * *

He sighs and folds his arms, because he's so tired of not being able to remember things of his own will. It was only him too..! At least he was pretty sure… He's about to do something in anger, maybe stomp a foot or give something a hard jab with the end of his stick, leftovers from a 3-year-old's tantrum. Then he remembers his promise and forces himself to calm down, leaning against the wall instead. He broods a little. Even the stuff he does know, he only found out secondhand. And now that he was fully grown, he couldn't have help with whatever he forgot from then on. Maybe North could help, he knew his fair share of magic, obviously. It makes him feel a little better, at least enough to talk. "Why just me? I mean you remember your life before this right? Everything I know now, my family, my village, my.. The day I died… Its only there because I got help. Without it, I'd be as lost as ever…" he spends a few seconds thinking on it, because he can't help feeling it's a little unfair. Then, he seems to break out of a trance, realizing just how much he'd opened up to someone he never would have considered talking so much to before, and someone who probably didn't want to hear it.

He forces himself to grin, if only to hide a bit of vulnerability, but he's still looking at the ground, the wall, anywhere but directly at him. He's also a little pleased that he actually answered his question… And quite differently then he expected. "What happened, huh?" He wouldn't be too surprised if the others preferred him a bit smaller and a little less aware of his surroundings. He isn't really shocked, he really was a kid at heart. Hell, compared to pretty much the rest of these guys he was still a kid anyways. He might have existed in his afterlife for a while, but chances are these guys have been here way longer. Physically, he was just barely an adult. Boy did that cause quite a few problems. He catches sight of the dust and cringes a little, someone definitely saw them together. It couldn't be that bad though right? After all, they knew he was a kid, so it couldn't have had too many repercussions.

* * *

He's contemplating just dropping a tunnel underneath himself and disappearing somewhere desolate for a while, if nothing more than to have anyone else but him deal with this—it's not that he doesn't want to help or anything, but having Jack reveal those thoughts to the Easter Bunny of all people was treading on a line between their light camaraderie and something else that Bunnymund wasn't ready to cross just yet. But he doesn't do it, because that would be dodging the issue and he's never run away from anything before. So he keeps quiet, looking away from that expression of nostalgia and annoyance, and waits for the inevitable moment when Frost realizes what he had just said. Bunnymund coughs into the pregnant silence, and shifts his position, a sudden rush of unpleasant memories swarming in front of his eyes. A good turn deserves another, he thinks. "If I had the chance to forget my past, I can't say I wouldn't be tempted to take it." Here he smiles, a little sad but encouraging. "Can't be sad if you don't remember what you're being sad 'bout, right?"

But he shakes the recollections away, taking in a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling of the cavern. How long has it been since he last thought about his—the—past? Probably way too long, if the way his fists are tightening is any indication. Frost's question offers him an out that the kid didn't even realize, and Bunnymund latches onto it. "You did what you do best—being a downright pain," he says, smirking as his voice takes on a teasing tone, and pushes away from he had been leaning against. "But enough of that, we need to get movin' to the Pole so that the others can see you've turned back to normal." He gives Jack a look, eyes lingering on the clothes which had conveniently also grown. "And maybe get you something else to wear."

* * *

He's a little surprised that he responds. Then it hits him, that just because any of them might know more about where they came from, it didn't mean they had it any better. Maybe sometimes it really WAS better not to be able to remember. They all seemed so sure of themselves, so calm and confident (well usually). They knew who they were, it seemed like they could never have been unsure of themselves. But where did he get an idea they all lived happy, perfect lives? What if they all remembered exactly what it was like to lose everything in that one minute? That would take its toll on anyone. He opens his mouth to ask if it was that bad, and decides against it. Sometimes he speaks without thinking, but something like this even he knew he couldn't just talk about with ease. If anyone ever felt like telling him, they would, and it most likely wouldn't be the guy in front of him. He probably wasn't in any real position to listen to anything quite so… Intimate. They were still so guarded against each other, whether or not they meant to be. Eventually, maybe they'd let go of their defenses, but it wouldn't be for a long while. At least he assumes so.

He lets himself laugh and pushes away from the wall. He looks down and shifts, crossing his arms again and tucking his staff under one of them. He was definitely not in his usual attire, and it was a little bothersome. Especially since they were plainly clothes for sleeping in. "Well… Thanks for, you know, stickin' around even though you were stuck with me." He looks around to distract himself from what he forced himself to say, he's mostly looking for his hoodie because its not like he goes anywhere without it. So it had to be around somewhere. He spots it and goes over, grabbing it to put it on.. Except its still extremely damp. He recoils briefly and looks at it funny, then looks over his shoulder. "Uh… You know I'm pretty sure I wasn't always wearing these. What happened to my other clothes? And.. What happened to this thing?" It was always cold, obviously, but rarely wet. It was soaked through, though it looked like it had been in the process of attempting to dry for a while.

* * *

He's not really sure what prompted him to return Frost's little heart-to-heart with a bit of his own—the past is the past, no matter what happens in the present or future, and Bunnymund had made peace with that idea a long, long time ago when he realized dwelling on it only made things so much worse. And yet, here he was, making a conscious effort to share an insight into what he effectively had tried so hard not to think about for so long—all because of Frost (and if he's really, really honest with himself, he'd admit that it was also because he didn't want to see that lost and neglected look a face he's just too used to seeing a smirk on anymore). He can tell that the kid's itching to just ask something, probably to prod a little more out of this moment of weakness he's showing, but manages to keep from verbalizing it, and Bunnymund doesn't want to think about how grateful he is for that. He's not really sure if he'd be willing to answer whatever it is, though, to show Frost another part of him that hadn't seen the light of day in…hell, he doesn't even know. This is as close as they'll probably ever get, with their light teasing and gestures, and Bunnymund's not sure why he doesn't feel as alright about it as he should.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I coulda just left you by yourself—who knows the mess you would've gotten yourself into." He shrugs, as if to emphasize that it didn't really bother him all that much. He wants to nudge Frost into moving faster, even though they weren't in any rush to leave, but it would just make him feel a lot better if they were dealing with this somewhere not so close-to-home. Literally. "Huh?" Bunnymund blinks out of his thoughts to see Frost looking at him over his shoulder and holding up… Oh hell. He'd forgotten about it, somehow; probably shouldn't have mentioned anything about his clothes, really. "You, uh, had a lil' accident when you were still a nipper. Fell in water." He decides to not mention how deep said water is, for obvious reasons. "So I had to change yer clothes for ya, and mind you, that was bloody difficult. Though…" He eyes the soggy clothes. "Best you don't try and change into those wet clothes just yet."

* * *

It isn't so much that he didn't WANT to talk with him, to know what went on inside his head… If he was ever honest with himself, he'd say outright that he never really enjoyed that, every time they were on the cusp of something new, something a little closer then usual, it would break down back into its formal uneasiness. It was like a wall there that could withstand practically anything. He didn't dislike him, and several times he'd even tried some subtle ways of getting into his head or spending just a little more time around him. More then he ever thought he would have been able to tolerate. For years he'd convinced himself there was no way he could ever stand him, that he was tired of his uptight seriousness all the damn time. Then, one day, the argument just sounded less and less convincing. Around that time he made semi-conscious efforts to get into his head, or to actually TALK to him.. But each time he'd ended up pretty much sabotaged. Defenses that completely rendered any serious talk helpless, that caught them both and dropped them down a well of unease and awkward silences until the only option was to abandon ship. Who knew if it would ever change… The chances were slim in his mind.

It was sort of in Bunny's nature to watch over things that were young, small, or new. It was basically the essence of Spring wasn't it? So it makes sense that he would take over the role of watching him for a while. Still… It was funny, not only because of the animosity they always showed but because watching over people was also HIS job…

His eyes narrow a little as he explains what happened. Water, huh? He feels small pinpricks at the back of his head, he bristles just a tiny bit. Spots of darkness appear in his vision and he can distinctly recall a feeling of water rushing into his mouth, covering his eyes, filling just about every part of him it can. He's dazed for a few seconds, then closes his eyes to block the feeling out and does his best to shake it off when he opens them. Now wasn't the time, not here, not in front of him. These were things to think about when he was alone. (Which sometimes was surprisingly hard to come by. After so many years of being in excess) He drapes the wet clothes over his staff, laughing a little at the effect. He gestures his hand towards him and the floor. "Well, lead the way I guess…" They had to face the rest of them sooner or later.


	7. Authors Note

To all the readers (or the few readers):

I hope this wasn't too difficult to understand. I can try and edit it if it is.

THe RP itself actually went on long after this, concerning some other aspects of their adult relationship.

The RP itself is incomplete and may very well live forever incomplete, because I have sort of lost this RP partner. However if you would like to see the rest of it feel free to tell me. It lines up with where this ends off and is also pretty cute.

Feel free to comment or PM and tell me.

I know there are some inconsistencies.

The little bit of tragedy actually was not supposed to happen, he was supposed to make it to shore before the ice broke but I think my partner misunderstood me! Either way its pretty cute.


End file.
